The Painter
by Mercuti0-Infern0
Summary: A portrait… That's what he had to pose for. Hours waiting for an old man to draw your face on the wall of history. That's what he thought… Until he met Him. FOR THE MERCUTIO FANFICTION CONTEST.
**~ The Painter ~**

Mercutio hated posing for painters. It was boring and not useful. His family had this tradition: when a son was becoming twenty years, he had to have his portrait painted. And this time, it was Mercutio's turn… It had taken ages to his best friend Romeo to make him accept.

_ This is an amazing way of keeping in mind how you were looking when you were young!" had said the calm Benvolio.

_ What do you mean "When you were young"? I will never get old, brother!

They had laugh at this and change topic. The day had finally come and the youth had no will to wake up and prepare himself. He had to wear his best clothes and his hair had to be perfect. Those perfect curls were quite a mess to take care of! But in the end, he just loved them! Women too… He put on some make up on his eyes, as he always did, and put on his shirt, leaving the three first lace open. The maid came to lead him to the atelier.

It was a really small place with a lot of pigments and dirty sheets everywhere. A beautiful hell where everything had it's place. Some small kitten were playing around and one elegant cat was laying on a chair, waiting for the sun to move and so, move with it.

_Ah! Scuzzie! I didn't want to be delay but… huh…I am any way!

Mercutio turned his head to face the man and he felt his mouth open. If beauty had a face, it was his. Beautiful golden curls, big honey eyes and bright innocent smile… Everything in this man was inspiring tenderness and lust… Mercutio rise his eyebrow. This wasn't the painter… He was too young! Maybe a couple of years more then he was! He had everything a woman would have dreamed of, and this way he had to move… Lord, it made Mercutio shiver.

_ My name is Luca. And I am the painter your… uncle? Hired to make your portrait, messere.

_ Nice to meet you, Luca… So, you are the painter? You look so young.

_ A lot of people tell me!, answered the artist laughing, but I am quite good in what I am doing… I guess… So… Well, here I am.

Or maybe my uncle chose the less expensive, thought Mercutio while smiling to himself. The young artist made him sign to sit on the chair were the cat was. Angry, the animal jumped off and went away, his tail straight like a I.

_ She is quite aggressive…, winced Luca with a chuckle, and really jealous. She thinks all my models are a threat!

_ Cats are not that intelligent!, smirked Mercutio letting his languorous being act.

_ You are wrong, messere, they are REALLY bright animals. They feel things that, us, humans, do not!

Silence fell. Della Scala let his eyes admire the way Luca's hands were moving, sketching his face under many angles… They were long and elegant, definitely with rough tips and palms. He found himself wondering how it would feel to have them on his skin… How sensitive it would make him. In bed, Mercutio wasn't the tender kind. When he was with women… He was sensual, teasing, enjoying to please… But when he was with men… He wanted it rough, almost violent… Because he felt his body and what he was deserved it. Plus… They were the ones who succeeded to make him forget his nightmares and this emptiness deep down his soul.

_ Why don't you smile?

He snapped out of his dream.

_ Pardon me?

Luca was smiling at him.

_ Why don't you smile? You have a beautiful smile…

Did he just made him a compliment? And not the easiest one… Mercutio's smile was reflecting his balance.. Is craziness… Wide, white and topped by lush lips.

_ You look intrigued… Am I the first one to say this?

_ Yes… Indeed… You are.

The painter frown.

_ Well, I would have thought women would have before me… Well, looks like it's not the case!

His words were light and unconscious, like he didn't had any clue of what he was saying. To him beauty was beauty and the gender didn't matter. He loved beauty… He loved Love… and he loved freedom. And his liberty was given threw his art and talent.

_ Who was your master…? asked his model trying to change topic.

_ Life, sir.

_ What do you mean?

_ Life is my master, sir… I never received any education, sir.

_ So… Where did you learn your art?

_ In churches, sir… Where no one could see me, I would hide, and observe the painters… I learned like this.

Full of surprise was this young man… Mercutio then started smiling, touched by a story he would have never had guessed. While he was trying to hide this burning feeling inside… This passion growing down his back… He would have never imagine what was thinking Luca: "I once learned that a model and a painter have a really special intimate relationship… Far away from the normality… A special link between their hearts and their bodies. The artist knows all about his model… and the model knows everything about the artist… And, time to time… Love comes over."

The day passed, and with it Mercutio's boredom. Strangely, Luca was of those men who could make your life look brighter. Flashing one smile, and your whole world was consuming to ashes of delight. His friend Solitude was gone with the Tuscan wind, and a uncontrollable desire of stopping time, freezing this moment in History was strangling him.

_ You look dreamy, messere…

_ Mercutio. Well… I am… You will learn to know me…

_ No need to be angry, messere, giggle the artist, dreams are part of my everyday life… They come and whisper my art.

_ You listen to your dreams?

_ Because you do not?

They looked at each other for a second, not able to stop their smile of appearing. Once again, silence fell and time passed by. Even if night was there, Luca found things to change, restart, modify, even start again and Mercutio didn't mind. When, finally, an heavy knock on the door was heard. The painter frowned and walked to open. It was the Montaigu boys, joyfull and in need of their best friend. They had plan to go and paint the town of blue, change the world and forget Death as they usely did. Benvolio and Romeo were two good looking young men, charming in their own way So different from Mercutio…

_ Sorry dear fellow, but we came to fetch your model! said gentle Romeo with a smile.

In Luca's eyes, both of them were really good looking… Romeo was the southern type…Tanned skin and black hair, nice cheekbones and perfect hazel eyes while Benvolio was blond and his blue gaze made Luca remember Venice. He had been in town for a couple of weeks only and didn't know anyone… So, the idea of letting his only "friend" go, made his heart cry. Luca was doomed by feelings, sensitive as a woman and even more. All little everyday hurts were heavier for him that you could possibly imagine. We already saw that he was a dreamer, a friend of queen Mab as was Mercutio, so…Reality was Hell to him. He simply nodded and called his model.

_ Tomorrow… at midday?, the light would be perfect, he mumbled.

_ Perfect, midday it will be then! Sleep well, Luca…

_ You too… Messere…

Changed by the presence of his friends, Mercutio didn't even look at him straight in the eyes, like a liar. True, he was lying, but not to Luca, to his friends. Because he knew without a doubt that he would have blushed and probably change his mind if he had saw this light in the painter's eyes…

The three boys ended up in the arenas, as they always did when the sun was on point to rise. Mercutio's laughter was echoing, beautiful proof of happiness and delight. He loved those moments, those instants of life where nothing could make him more happy then being with the people he loved the most. He loved hearing Romeo talked about his stupid love affair, he loved hearing Benvolio talk about sciences and philosophy… He loved his life. Plus, everything was good, not sleeping gave him the opportunity to run away from his demons… From those nightmares… But we will talk about it later on.

_ So how is Fiora?, ask Benvolio too his beloved cousin.

_ She is the light of my days!, sighted Montaigu son.

_ So she is not really useful, smirked Mercutio.

_ What do you mean?

_ Light makes the dark clearer and is useless during the day! A little candle cannot fight against the sun!

_ Stop playing with words, you fool! One day you will know what I am talking about!, groaned Romeo.

_ Dear Romeo, Handsome Romeo, listen carefully: love is worthless! Love is pain and hurts you like thorns! So as long as it does, do the same to him! Be rough and make him beg for mercy!

_ Why would you like to hurt, Love?, asked Romeo his mind full of the beautiful Fiora.

Mercutio stud up and walked down till the center of the arenas, looking up at the orange and golden sky. His undying smile appearing once again. He will never answer to this, because everyone has is secrets…

_ Don't you think you should go and have some rest? Don't you have an appointment for your painting later on?

Mercutio took off the ribbon which was holding his hair into a ponytail, letting his curls cascade down his shoulders and back. He gave a quick glance at Benvolio and Romeo who had already forgotten about his monologue. They were both looking at him with a pleasant smile.

_ Yes…I do, friends.

When Mercutio walked threw the door, Luca's heart fluttered. He had wait for this moment since the moment hi model had left him the other time. He was looking tired and his eyes were giving away his short night…

_ You did not slept to much… did you?, joked the painter, bitter.

_ Ay… It was quite up side down…

A knot formed in the painter's stomach. An handsome young man like Della Scala wasn't spending many lonely nights, he knew it for sure. The simple sketch on his hands on a feminin body was making him want to break down into anxiety. But he didn't show it, of course he did not! Nobody should ever know about this vice of his… this love they were few to understand.

What he didn't know was what Mercutio really meant… His night had been short, for sure, and the only time he slept, Morpheus had doomed him with those nightmares… He was used to them… But never they had been so violent and realistic. Mab, was angry against him and he didn't know why. Maybe because his mind was full of someone else then her… The picture blurred by alcohol and songs, of a young and gorgeous talented man…

He sat down on the chair, letting his hair fall on his left shoulder. Without warning, a small cat jumped on his knees and start purring like if it was the best place on earth. Maybe it was? Thought Luca who couldn't stop a smile from forming across his face.

_ It's name is Mab…

Mercutio froze, looking at the kitten like if he was dreaming.

_ Where did you learn about her?, he questioned, looking up.

_ I had this friend who knew a lot about the world of dreams… He talked to me about her when I told him I…

Could he admit it?

_ … I was dreaming often of someone I didn't know.

Well… Almost there!

_ A woman?, teased Mercutio.

_ Ay…

Liar… He was a liar… But he didn't want to get killed because he had start loving in a different manner. When you were a _grandi,_ someone powerful, people didn't care about how you were spending your nights or with whom you were sharing you sheets! But you were an humble painter who was not even recognized as one… You could not take the risk…. It was not worth it.

Della Scala sighted…

_ Did you ever met her?

_ Why are you sighting?

_ Why do you care? You are paid to paint my face so my descendant remember what I look like, spat the prince's nephew.

Luca looked down and took off his jacket. Some white scars were drawn on his torso and back, contrasting with his velvet tanned skin. For a second, you could read lust on Mercutio's eyes… A violent desire to make this skin his, to mark it as his territory… But on the other hand, something stronger then him was whispering: "Do not degrade this innocence… You are soiled… He is still pure of Verona… Do not. Do. Not.".

He could guess every vein pulsating on his neck… The beating of his heart sending blood all over his body… How would it be to torn this beauty apart? To soil this perfectness with red stain… Why so much violence? Or maybe… Was it to hide something forming deeper… Something Mercutio would have never admit even under torture, to proud to ever accept that he was, him too, able to feel… able to love.

He was scared of this fire inside him… He was scared of this passion crawling over him and how the only idea of Luca's eyes on someone else made him want to vomit. Lost in his thought he have not seen approached. He got on his knees and arranged those messy curls so Mercutio's face was visible.

This simple touch had made both of them shiver… And the look they shared the second after had bound them to their fate.

 _One other touch, and Mercutio would fall…_


End file.
